Cancer
by Mr.Panic Attack
Summary: A drabble about Alfred's last breath. WARNING: Character Death.


**WARNING: VIOLENCE, BLOOD, SADNESS, DISEASE AND SHITTY WRITING**

 _ **I made this because I miss my mother and my grandma and my best friend and my godmother and happiness, and when I started listening to this: watch?v=yw6i1SAHetc I just lost it. I opened a document and started typing. I've lost so many people to cancer and I hate the universe for taking away the only people that made me feel valued and alive. I'm not happy about this, but It's accurate, and I had to do something other than sob uncontrollably. Leave a review I guess, even though no one cares whether or not my depressed and problematic ass feels encouraged to write anymore.**_

Ivan sat on end of the hospital bed, head in his hands as he silently cried, careful not to wake up Alfred, who lay in the bed in a deep, drug induced sleep. Oh how Ivan cried. He couldn't stop, silently screaming every once in awhile, angry at the universe, angry at the world, angry at himself and all the unknown. Angry and more afraid than he'd ever been in this past five years.

The cancer had been in Alfred's system for years now, slowly killing him. Slowly killing his bright smile, killing his enthusiasm and excitement that was once annoying. Now Ivan would kill to see that old glow in his lover's eyes just once. Just once so he could know that Alfred would die with a sparkle, and go out shining like the beautiful star he was. But it wouldn't happen. He knew that in his heart of hearts. The chemo had taken away the Alfred Ivan had fallen in love with, and left him an empty shell that struggled to smile, and barely recognized the ashen blonde that cried with joy every time he woke again.

The disease had taken so much of Alfred. His memories, his love, his smile, and laugh. It had taken his bones and his blood and his happiness. He refused to kiss Ivan anymore, half the time because he didn't know who he was, and half the time because it hurt. It hurt his chapped and split lips so much to even part for a breath of air. Alfred let out weak little cries whenever he opened his mouth, the dry skin splitting and pouring blood down his chin and into his mouth, making him choke on his own blood. Ivan would have to be on guard all the time to wipe away the blood before it killed him.

And now Ivan was looking down at Alfred, at his used to be blonde. At his empty and broken lover. There was no time to cry, but it was all he could do. All he could do besides call a nurse when the heart monitor flat lined, leaving Ivan to throw his head back and let out a heart wrenching scream of agony that couldn't wake Alfred as his heart let out it's last squeak of life before giving up.

Ivan was held back by nurses as he screamed _no_. over and over again as he watched his lover die. As he watched his only reason for living blink out of existence like an unplugged Christmas tree. As he watched Alfred's eyes snap open one more time to reveal his dead and dull sapphires that stared up at his ascending soul. His ghost that tried to comfort Ivan as he tried to tear the nurses off of him so he could hold Alfred one last time, as if his touch would somehow magickally bring him back. So he could kiss him once before he was dragged off to be cremated and stuffed in an old vase.

One nurse got punched in the face, another in the chest as Ivan managed to scramble away and push back the disappointed doctors. He collapsed onto the bed, sitting up and holding, _rocking_ Alfred in his arms as he desperately pleaded for his sick, chemo filled, dead lover to come back to him. At any cost, _just please come back._ Hospital staff shook their head at a distance, having seen it all before. Having seen so many desperate lovers scream at the world to give back what it had unrightfully taken. Ivan's tears fell onto Alfred's pale and sunken face, a few drops giving life to small spots on his dry and still bleeding lips. He wanted to kiss him so, so bad, but he knew that Alfred wouldn't want the memory of their last kiss to be this. To be something so desperate and so sad.

So Ivan stood, laying Alfred back down and tucking him nicely into the uncomfortable hospital bed, making sure he looked at peace for the first time in four years before standing, and silently leaving the hospital room, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silent hallways.


End file.
